


Camera Shy

by Blink_Blue



Series: S3 Fics [6]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Coliver make a porn video, Dirty Talk, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Smut, takes place the summer before S3, this is very dirty idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8516302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blink_Blue/pseuds/Blink_Blue
Summary: Oliver "Monster in Bed" Hampton shows off his skills.





	

Connor watches Oliver move through dark, hooded eyes. The other man is nervous, and it brings back a flash of memory from their first meeting… _him suave and confident, and Oliver a trembling mess…_ That was nearly a year ago. Now, Oliver’s hands shake and there’s a thin gleam of sweat on his brow. By the fifth time that Oliver messes with the settings or fiddles with the angle, Connor has had enough. “Would you leave that damn thing alone and get over here already?” His impatience gets the better of him and he lets out a loud sigh. “I might just get started without you!” He warns.

Oliver’s eyes swing up to glare at the man lazing on the bed. “I just want this to look good, okay?” He looks back down at the camcorder. But no matter how many ways he adjusts the angle left and right, or zooms the screen in and out, the whole bed is clearly _perfectly_ in the shot. Oliver swallows nervously and zooms in once more for good measure. The little Connor on the display screen gives him his best annoyed, exasperated glare.

Connor drops his head back onto the pillows and exhales loudly once again. “I’m offended,” he grumbles, speaking to the ceiling. “How dare you imply that _this–”_ He gestures down at himself, “–could look anything but good?”

Oliver blinks and looks up from the camcorder again. Connor lies sprawled out on their freshly cleaned sheets. _Won’t be clean for long_. He watches Connor’s bare chest rise, up and down, and up and down… Connor runs a hand through his messy hair, clearly bored out of his mind–because Oliver had promised him the fuck of a lifetime. He said he would literally fuck Connor’s brains out (and he wanted it on camera) and _damn it_ he has yet to deliver.

Oliver bites his bottom lip as he turns back to the little screen in front of him. His boyfriend wears nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, sprawled out unabashedly, looking like a fucking underwear model on their bed. The bulge in the front of his boxer briefs indicates that he’s well prepared for their subsequent activities.

Excitement fills Oliver as he watches him. Adrenaline shoots through his veins, brushing aside all his nervousness, and he takes a deep breath before pressing the button with the little red dot.

The camcorder starts recording.

Connor grins and opens his eyes when he feels the other man climb onto the bed. His hand reaches out to pull Oliver closer. “Finally,” he breathes. But he senses the other man’s hesitation, and Connor’s grin falls slightly. “What’s wrong?” He asks, looking Oliver up and down. “Don’t tell me you’re camera shy. This was _your_ idea.”

Oliver cringes, thinking of the camera that’s currently recording their every motion and every word. “I don’t know, maybe… maybe this was a stupid idea.” Oliver drops his head, and tries not to think about the fact that Connor is already pulling himself up, prepared to eagerly, _enthusiastically_ change his mind.  

What was he thinking–why did he want to do this so badly? Oh that’s right, because their bedroom life–no, their _relationship–_ had become stale and lackluster since the beginning of the summer. And Oliver certainly knows the reason behind it. For months now, Connor’s Stanford acceptance and his own actions to rid it consistently plague his thoughts, never giving him a moment of peace. Connor himself seems cut off and distant in his ignorance. No less loving or sweet, but at the same time, he’s… detached. The intimacy seems gone.

Oliver’s just trying to find it again.

“You want to do this?” Oliver asks softly.

Connor grins gently at him. A hint of the classic Walsh smirk that Oliver hasn’t seen in _ages_ pulls at the corner of his lips. “I’m not even sure what _this_ is. But I’ve been looking forward to it like you wouldn’t imagine.” Connor leans forward and brushes their lips together. It’s a soft and gentle kiss, their lips barely touch. But Oliver is suddenly enveloped by the scent of the other man. Connor’s hands come to rest on his forearms. And out of nowhere, Oliver wants this _so bad,_ that he can hardly stand it.

Leaning forward, he grabs Connor’s arms and pushes them back onto the bed. Connor lands softly on a pile of pillows. Oliver crushes their lips together, revelling in the sounds Connor makes and the feeling of the smaller man arching up beneath him. “Are you ready for this?” Oliver murmurs between kisses.

Connor snorts against his lips. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” Connor raises an eyebrow, grinning up at him.

“No,” Oliver shakes his head. “We’ve never fucked like this before,” Oliver growls and takes Connor’s wrist in each hand, pressing them to the pillows on either side of Connor’s face as he leans over close. “ _You’ve_ never been fucked like this before.”

Connor’s eyebrows shoot up even higher. “Um… O-Oliver, you know I’ve… I’ve had a _lot_ of sex…” He says skeptically. “You can’t possibly–”

Oliver tightens his grip around Connor’s wrists. “Not like this.” His eyes run over Connor’s face, taking in every feature, every detail–he wants to remember this moment forever. The way he’s staring at Connor makes Connor’s smirk drop. For a moment, all they do is look into each other’s eyes.

Connor stares up at him, eyes wide in shock and… _arousal._ “What’s gotten into you?” He whispers softly as he slowly wets his bottom lip, a motion that Oliver does _not_ miss.

Oliver pauses. He rests his weight on Connor’s thighs, unable to meet his eyes. “I feel like… all summer we’ve been… we haven’t been us, you know?”

“I–I know I’ve been distant,” Connor chokes, “I just–my head’s been in the wrong place and I know I haven’t–”

Oliver silences him with a gentle hand on the side of his face. “It’s okay, Connor.” Oliver insists weakly. “Whatever it is… I love you.” It scares him how much he means that. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Connor furrows his brow. “Why–why are you acting weird? You know you’re not getting rid of me that easily, right?”

Oliver chuckles and drops his head. He can’t stop thinking about it–no matter how hard he tries. It’s agonizing how these thoughts won’t leave him alone. He’s known that Connor has his secrets– _he hates it–_ and now he… now he has an awful secret of his own. It keeps eating away at him. Every time he closes his eyes, he hears his own voice… _declining Connor’s acceptance._

Connor’s hand rests gently on his waist. The warmth from his palm sears his skin, and Oliver opens his eyes to Connor’s concerned gaze. He shakes his head to clear those thoughts–he doesn’t want them now, not _now._ Because right now, they’re here, and they’re together, and in this moment all he wants is for this to last forever.

“I thought you were going to give me the fucking of a lifetime,” Connor murmurs softly. He grinds his hips upwards, urging for a reaction out of the other man.  

Oliver huffs out a breath. “Now you’re just asking for it.” A smile pulls at his lips.

Connor grins beautifully, and Oliver considers maybe this isn’t the time for serious thoughts about the stability of their relationship. Maybe this is the time to seize the moment. And right now… the moment is near naked, staring up at him with dark, sinful eyes, and looking pretty fucking gorgeous.

Oliver leans down and presses their lips together. His hand comes up to rest on the side of Connor’s face, and the other man’s arms pull him close. They gasp heavily as their hips grind together. Connor’s hands find themselves on Oliver’s ass, desperately trying to pull him closer–trying to tug off his boxer briefs–

“Wait, wait, wait–” Oliver pulls back and gives his head a shake. All the blood suddenly rushed downwards, and he just needs a moment.

But Connor’s staring at him like he’s grown an extra head. And not the fun kind. “What is it?”

Oliver swallows. “What’s the safe word?”

Connor snorts. “Come on,” he says incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Oliver nods insistently. “Say it. What’s the safe word?”

Connor glares and tilts his head to the side stubbornly. “Maker’s Manhattan.”

“That’s right,” Oliver murmurs, as he runs a hand slowly down Connor’s naked torso. He stops when he reaches Connor’s black boxer briefs. “Don’t forget it.” Oliver hooks his fingers underneath the waistband, and with a quick tug pulls them off the other man and discards them onto the floor.

Connor fights against the smile forming on his lips as he settles back into the bed. He’s ready for whatever Oliver’s about to bring. His eyes flutter shut, lips gently parted as Oliver presses gentle kisses to his cheek, down his jaw, and finally to his neck.

“What do you want, Connor?” Oliver whispers against his skin.

Connor breathes heavily, “I want you to touch me.”

Oliver nips at his skin with his teeth, earning him a soft gasp. “What do we say?”

“Please… touch me,” Connor’s breath hitches as Oliver’s lips flutter over his pulse. He jumps slightly as Oliver’s fingers ghost over his skin, only to pinch his sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Ollie!”

“Is this not what you meant?” Oliver asks, as he continues to suck on the flesh of Connor’s neck. He feels Connor’s hips thrusting upwards ever so slightly, and with a firm hand on Connor’s hip he steadies him against the bed. “Connor?”

Connor stifles a cry deep in his throat, trying to keep quiet as Oliver continues torturing his nipple. Finally, he grits out, “You can do anything you want to me.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, anything!” Connor’s already arching his hips upwards again, desperately trying to get Oliver’s attention on his needs. But instead of Oliver’s hand on his cock, the other man travels lower, and suddenly Connor feels Oliver probing at his tight ring of muscle with his finger. Without any lube, Oliver doesn’t push in–he just circles the rim again and again, teasing him without delivering. Connor’s eyes squeeze shut. His cock is already achingly hard and pressing against the warmth of Oliver’s belly. Even the slightest amount of friction has his lips falling open in a silent scream as he pants heavily.

Oliver chuckles softly as he watches him. “We’ve barely begun,” he warns him, a second before he slips lower on Connor’s torso, grips the other man’s thighs and lifts them up. Connor’s moaning before he even touches him. He trembles against Oliver’s warm breath against his ass. And when Oliver makes a show of licking slow, wet circles around his hole–mimicking what he had done earlier with his finger–Connor practically loses it.  

Connor whines, soft and high pitched, head thrown back against the pillow as he tries to angle himself further onto Oliver’s tongue.

“You like it when I lick you open?” Oliver asks quietly, teasing him with his tongue fluttering gently over his hole–but still not giving Connor what he wants.

Connor’s trembling against the sheets as he answers. “Yes–yes, I love it–please, Ollie–”

“Please what?” Oliver presses a gentle kiss to Connor’s perineum, his nose brushes against his balls, and it leaves Connor choking back a cry. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Please,” Connor gasps, “put your tongue in me.”

Oliver grins and rewards him with a slow lick from his asshole to his balls, then back down again. He slowly plunges his tongue forward, past the strong ring of muscle. His hands firmly grip Connor’s thighs, holding him still as the other man spasms on the bed. He keeps thrusting his tongue in and out, until he’s got spit running down his chin and Connor’s hole is a sloppy, wet mess. He relishes in the sounds coming from Connor above him–beautiful fucked out moans spill out with his every breath. Connor’s cock is rock hard and completely neglected, a spot of pre cum spills from the tip. But still, he keeps his hands clenched by his sides–the way he knows Oliver prefers it.

“You like it when I eat you out?” Oliver asks, his voice hoarse and raspy.

“I love it,” Connor’s voice cracks beautifully as his chest heaves.

Oliver gives him another slow, torturous lick before pulling back. He admires Connor’s wet hole for a moment before slowly sliding his forefinger inside. It slips in easily without resistance. “So wet for me, huh?” He murmurs as he pumps his finger in and out.

“Ollie, please.” Connor whines anxiously as Oliver twists his finger inside him.

“Not yet, my sweet.” Oliver says softly.

“Come on, I–I need you.” Connor’s hands blindly reach for him, grasping at Oliver’s wrist, his arms, anything he can get his hands on.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Oliver says as he finally straightens to look the other man in the eye. He slowly climbs over Connor’s torso, and runs his fingers up Connor’s smooth skin from his hip to his neck. They finally bury themselves in Connor’s messy hair and Oliver grips it tight. “I’m going to put my cock between these gorgeous lips.” Oliver gently taps Connor’s bottom lip for good measure. “You’re going to show me what a good little cocksucker you are. And maybe, just _maybe_ I’ll reward you by fucking you ‘til you cum.”

Connor breathes heavily, his eyes widening with every word. But he nods his head and eagerly switches position so that Oliver is sitting with his back against the pillows and Connor’s head is pressed into Oliver’s lap. He slides Oliver’s boxer briefs off his hips, and stares hungrily at Oliver’s cock, already hard and leaking from the slit.

Oliver sighs impatiently above him as Connor slowly reaches his tongue out to swipe against the tip. Taking his time, he circles the head with his tongue. He can make Oliver suffer too. A low grunt from the other man, and he finally opens his mouth wide and swallows Oliver’s cock as far as it’ll go.

Oliver curses softly when he’s enveloped in the heat of Connor’s mouth. His eyes flutter shut, only for a moment before he forces them open again–he doesn’t want to miss even a second of this. Connor is fucking breathtaking when he’s bobbing his mouth over his cock, his cheeks hollowed, a dribble of saliva running down his chin.

“You look so fucking gorgeous with my cock in your mouth,” Oliver exhales softly. “Like you were fucking made to swallow my dick.”

Connor moans deep in his throat in response, driving the vibrations straight to Oliver groin. He squeezes his eyes shut when Oliver’s cock nudges the back of his throat, but still he takes it all the way.

“God, you like that? Choking on my cock?” Oliver whispers. “You like it when my cock fills your throat? I bet you wish it was buried in your ass right now, huh?” A low hum from Connor has Oliver feeling faint. His hand grips the other man’s hair, tugging on the long, silky strands.

“Oh god, Connor…” Oliver shudders as he takes in the sight of Connor’s body twisted on the mattress. The curve of his ass is displayed beautifully for Oliver to see. He thinks about how wet Connor’s hole must still be, wet and quivering, just begging for his cock to slip inside. Connor’s own dick is pressed uncomfortably against the mattress, aching and demanding attention.

He groans and lets his head drop back slightly. Connor’s talented fingers massage his balls, already tight and drawn up to his body, it’s much too early for that–

“Get on your back,” Oliver demands.

Connor lets Oliver’s cock fall from his lips with a messy exaggerated, wet slurp. He grins widely as he throws himself onto his back on the sheets. Little does he know, Oliver’s about to wipe that grin off his face.

Oliver climbs over him, straddling his waist. He slicks his index finger in his mouth before bringing it down the Connor’s ass, running it over his slick, tight hole.

The softest whimper slips from Connor’s throat, embarrassingly high pitched, and he whines and drives his head back into the pillow as Oliver slips inside. He tries desperately to fuck himself on Oliver’s finger, but the other man is being a fucking tease.

“You feel so fucking tight,” Oliver murmurs, thinking about how good Connor’s heat would feel around his cock as he continues to finger fuck him. “So fucking tight…”

“I am,” Connor cries breathily. “I am tight–so just put your cock in me–” Connor reaches blindly for the bedside table where their lube is, but he can’t quite reach it. “Come on, I want to feel you inside me–”

Oliver knocks Connor’s hand away from the table and grins into the flesh of Connor’s neck when the other man whines in response. “I am inside you,” he says coyly.

“Fuck you,” Connor spits. “You finger is not what I meant!”

Oliver’s grin widens as he straightens. He grabs the bottle of lube with his free hand and flicks open the cap. He squeezes a small amount onto the head of Connor’s cock and slowly, _torturously_ rubs it over Connor’s girth while simultaneously fingering his ass.

Connor moans pitifully, his hands desperately clawing against the sheets for something to clutch onto. It doesn’t get any better when Oliver leans over him, presses a quick kiss to his chest before moving over to scrape his teeth over Connor’s nipple.  

“Come on, O-Ollie,” Connor gasps. “I’ve had enough.”

“No, I decide when you’ve had enough,” Oliver says with a hard voice, as he squeezes Connor’s throbbing cock. He pulls his finger out and gives the other man a quick slap on the ass, getting a lovely yelp in return.

“Oliver, please…”

“Please what?” Oliver asks, as he reaches for the abandoned bottle of lube next to him. He leans over and gives the other man a soft kiss on the lips, revelling in how Connor reaches up for him as he pulls away, begging for more touch than what Oliver’s giving him.

But Oliver only gives him another peck on the lips. He’s going to drag this out as long as he possibly can and make him suffer, and then he hears it–the languid, low groan as Connor arches off the bed again, begging to be touched. “Please, I want you–I want you, Oliver…”

“Tell me what you want,” Oliver says softly as he continues twisting his slick-covered hand in slow, long strokes over Connor’s cock. “Tell me what you _need_ , babe.”

Connor opens his eyes. He stares into Oliver’s orbs, dark with lust. He parts his lips, “I want your cock. I want you to put it inside me. I–I want you to fuck me, please…”

“I’d give it to you so good,” Oliver says with small smile. He squeezes more lube into the palm of his hand, and slowly fists his own cock as Connor watches him with wide eyes. “I’d slip inside… stretching you out… making you feel so fucking full…”

“And then what?” Connor whispers. His voice cracks and it’s the most beautiful sound Oliver’s ever heard.

Oliver smirks. “Fuck you until you cum all over yourself.” _And then he does._ Oliver grips Connor’s thighs, lifts them slightly, and pushes into him in one fluid motion. Connor lets out a blissful cry when he’s filled, only interrupted by Oliver’s own choked cry of pleasure as he pauses, balls deep in his lover.

After a moment, when Oliver still doesn’t move, Connor’s noises have finally died down to heavy breaths, coming out in ragged gasps. “Come on!” Connor snaps. “Move!”

Oliver growls in response, attaching his mouth to the sensitive spot where Connor’s neck meets his shoulder. He marks it up, pressing his nose into Connor’s hair, into his neck, sucking on the sensitive flesh as Connor squirms beneath him.

Then finally, _finally_ Oliver starts thrusting his hips.

Connor mews loudly, the sounds swallowed up by Oliver’s lips over his own. He moans in between kisses, and gasps wretchedly into Oliver’s mouth as the other man thrusts into him. “Ollie–”

Oliver drags his fingertips softly along Connor’s jaw. His head spins, even as his eyes explore the other man’s face in detail, trying to commit every facet to memory. The way Connor’s lips fall open, the way he cries hoarsely with every thrust into his body, the way Connor’s body feels _so_ good around his own, like he’s drowning in a sea of passion as wave after wave of pleasure washes over him.

“How’s it feel?” Oliver whispers breathlessly. “How’s it feel to finally get fucked by my cock?”

Connor whimpers in response, biting his lip so hard, it’s an angry red when Oliver kisses his teeth open. “You feel so good… You feel so good… Please, Ollie… don’t stop…” His cock throbs painfully between his legs, aching and desperately begging to be touched. “Ollie… I’m–I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop–”

Connor’s hand reaches between his legs but only gets halfway before Oliver grabs his wrist and pins it roughly to the bed.

“Did I say you could cum?” Oliver hisses at him.

Connor whines, loud and pitifully–a gorgeous, carnal sound.

“Answer me.” Oliver says, heaving loudly.

“No–no you didn’t–”

“You’ll cum when I say you can cum.”

_“Ah fuck–”_ Connor’s voice is cuts off into a yelp when Oliver smacks the curve of his ass. Then he makes a startled sound when Oliver’s slick palm wraps around his throbbing cock. He takes in a quick rush of air. “Oh god, right there… right there… oh god Ollie, please don’t stop… please–”

Oliver squeezes his cock gently. His blood pounds in his ears as he watches the man beneath him arch his neck beautifully. Connor’s eyes are glassy as he continues to cry out, lacking all filter at this point–before he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s all deep moans and fucked out pleas as he’s getting his ass pounded into. It’s a glorious sight to behold, and Oliver takes a moment to commit it to memory.

Connor’s mouth hangs open, brow furrowed as a bead of sweat drips into his hair. He screams hoarsely in delight every time Oliver thrusts into him. Oliver knows him so well, he knows Connor’s body almost as well as he knows his own. He knows how to make him scream, exactly how to angle his hips to have him moaning raggedly with his lips wide open, a trembling, boneless heap for Oliver to do with as he pleases.

Oliver leans over and captures his lips in a kiss. Connor trembles as Oliver fucks him slow and deep, each thrust brushes against his prostate, causing his breath to hitch. Their bodies press tightly together. But it’s not enough. “Please, please Ollie,” Connor whispers. “I need to–”

“No.”

A curse slips past Connor’s lips. “Come on, come on, you son of a bitch,” Connor gasps. Oliver still won’t let him touch his cock. And Oliver won’t do it himself! He arches off the bed slightly, moans spilling past his lips as Oliver simultaneously ignores his cock and denies his pleas for things to get rougher and faster.

“Touch me,” Connor begs.

“Hm?”

“Touch me, please.” Connor gasps as he presses his mouth against Oliver’s cheek. _“Make me scream.”_

Oliver bites his lip as he pants heavily, trying to control his breaths. He’s in it for the long haul. He gazes down at the other man through dark, lidded eyes. He gives a particularly hard thrust of his hips, and Connor cries out beautifully. He changes his pace, alternating between fast and brutal, and slow and long, driving Connor crazy with his indecisiveness. Oliver finally reaches for his cock, squeezing gently–a few strokes and Connor’s gasping, brow furrowed, a familiar look on his face.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Connor whispers suddenly.

Oliver gives him a hard thrust but pauses when he’s buried to the hilt. His hand releases Connor’s cock and he grabs his balls instead, gently squeezing and pulling them slightly away from his body, just enough to derail his orgasm and leave him shaking, moaning, and absolutely wrecked.

“You–you s-son of a bitch,” Connor struggles hoarsely.

“You cum when I say you can cum,” Oliver repeats. “And I say ‘not yet’,” he whispers between kisses pressed lovingly to Connor’s collarbone as the other man falls apart beneath him.

Connor groans as Oliver’s hips resume their motion. He breathes heavily, arching his back off the bed, desperately trying to angle his hips _just_ right to hit that sweet spot.  

“Such a tight fucking ass,” Oliver mumbles into his skin. He smacks said ass, earning him a yelp and a jolt. He growls as he feels his own orgasm build up. He squeezes his eyes shut painfully, wanting to last as long as he can. _This_ moment, _this_ moment he wants to remember forever. As he fucks Connor fast, then slow, then fast again. And the other man is trembling and shaking, marked up on his neck and collarbone by Oliver’s teeth and mouth, screaming… begging to be fucked harder…

Oliver gives Connor’s cock a long, hard stroke, before squeezing it tightly at the base. Connor lets out a choked scream and a slew of incoherent words.

Oliver’s trembling himself. He wants to hear Connor scream more. He wants to make him cum again and again, with his cock and his fingers, until he’s nothing more than a whimpering, boneless, fucked out mess.

The building pleasure is a muddled haze in his brain. “I’m gonna take care of you,” Oliver whispers. “Because you’re mine,” _right now… in this moment, Connor is his and he is Connor’s. And there’s something devastatingly beautiful in that._

Oliver gasps raggedly, nearly losing his balance as he thrusts. Connor’s cock twitches in his palm, his balls drawn painfully tightly. He continues to cry out as his prostate is stroked again and again, back arching, head thrown back in ecstasy. “O-Ollie,” he cries brokenly.

Oliver struggles to draw in air, he can’t hold back much longer–His fingers reach below Connor’s balls and he rubs hard and rhythmically at the spot right behind his balls. He cups his sack, his belly creating friction as it rubs along the underside of Connor’s cock.

Connor practically squeals as he jolts in Oliver’s arms.

They’re both sent over the edge at the same time. It’s so powerful that Oliver sees nothing but white behind his eyelids, and they ride it out together. Oliver gives a few more shallow thrusts as waves of his orgasm wash over him, rocking in and out of Connor until he’s a sobbing, trembling mess. And Connor keeps cumming, making a sticky mess between them as he spasms.

They collapse into a heavy, sweaty, boneless heap. Sluggishly, Oliver turns his head to gaze at the other man, still trying to catch his breath.

“Oh my god,” Connor gasps. “What did you do to me?”

Oliver chuckles softly. His wandering fingers reach out again, gently brushing his fingertips against the spot behind Connor’s balls.

Connor practically yelps, nearly jumping off the bed. “Ow–I’m sensitive,” he whispers as he gasps heavily, eyes closed again.

“Is this what you wanted?” Oliver murmurs softly.

“This was amazing,” Connor whispers. “We should do this again. We should do this always…”

Oliver’s heart flutters at the thought. He grins softly as he rests his head in the crook of Connor’s neck. He doesn’t think about how _always_ sounds impossible right now… Instead, he focuses on Connor’s labored breathing, and the pounding of his heart in his chest. He thinks about his arm thrown sluggishly over Connor’s waist, and the feeling of Connor’s hand gently stroking his back.

Oliver’s eyes flutter over to the camcorder that’s still recording them. He swallows heavily at the sight of the little red light, silently calling him over to stop it. To end it.

Oliver lets out a shaky breath and instead, buries his face in Connor’s neck. He presses a gentle kiss there and closes his eyes tiredly.

Not today, he thinks. Not today.  

**Author's Note:**

> [x](http://winters-blue-children.tumblr.com)


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